Spark
by Tinkerbell99
Summary: "Pretty hot," she mused with a teasing grin. Carol shielded her eyes and innocently surveyed the sun rising high overhead. She didn't miss, though, the way his face reddened just a little too much to blame on the heat. (S3 Caryl)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This one's nothing serious, just some light Caryl set at the prison. (We all need some happy in our lives, right?) It was written as a one-shot, but I'm honestly not sure if that's where it will stay.**

**Disclaimer: The Walking Dead and its characters do not belong to me. Mechanical references are straight from google.**

* * *

**Spark**

Carol slowed as she rounded the corner into the sun, the white heat blinding after a morning spent inside the dim prison walls. The rubber tub serving as a laundry basket bounced too sharply against her hip. She'd intended to take advantage of the stifling weather and hang their ragged bits of clothing on the makeshift line. They'd dry in minutes in heat like this. Spotting Daryl, however, drove the intention straight from her mind. Unwittingly, her feet slowed to a halt on the disused concrete.

He was working on one of the cars. One of the older ones that lacked any keys. They'd rolled it in from the outer lot, intending, she'd thought, to use it for parts. The rusting Chevy had stood a silent watch on the abandoned lot throughout their stay at the prison. From the sun-faded paint, she wondered if it hadn't lingered there for years before that.

Bending slightly, Carol eased her grip on the laundry tub, allowing it to slide through her dampened hands. From the driver's seat of the silent car, Daryl glanced over, alerted by the scuffle it made when it hit the concrete. Wriggling on his back with a tool clenched in his teeth, he offered a nod at her approach. She watched as, boots planted on the ground, he edged headfirst under the steering column. A bemused smile crossed her lips when she realized what he was about to do. Interested, she chanced a few ambling steps forward, resting her fingers on the open car door.

"I hear that's illegal."

His cheek twitched toward a smirk, but he didn't respond. Carol observed as he pried around under the wheel, preparing, she supposed, whatever was needed to hot-wire the car. Sweat rolled from his temple, dampening his hair into darkened streaks. The sleeveless shirt he wore edged dangerously high over his waist, wet cotton clinging damply to his muscular chest. Oblivious to her attention, or perhaps just in spite of it, Daryl continued on at his task, twisting easily around on the seat while her shadow kept the sun from reaching his eyes.

"Pretty hot," she mused with a teasing grin. Carol shielded her eyes and innocently surveyed the sun high overhead. She didn't miss, though, how his head whipped up from the seat or the way his face reddened just a little too much to be an effect of the heat. She couldn't help but be pleased as he fumbled slightly with a tool.

Satisfied, she crossed past his boots and leaned against the rear door of the car, ignoring, for now, the basket of laundry she'd abandoned so eagerly moments before. The heat of the sun-warmed metal soaked deliciously into her aching back. Still, she couldn't stop the chuckle from passing her lips as she eyed Daryl's well-worn boots peeking out from the open door. It was ridiculous, really. Hot-wiring a car from inside a prison.

Though no more ridiculous, she supposed, than laundry strung on old barbed wire.

Removing the screwdriver from his teeth, Daryl paused only long enough in his work to offer her something in the way of a half-serious glare. She felt it like a nudge against her back. "Whatcha laughin' at?"

"Nothing." Carol bit back a grin and studied the sky. "Just the things that come in handy at the end of the world."

He didn't respond for a moment, but she could hear a scraping sound from inside. Carol rubbed absently at her dampened neck. Heat shimmered waves across the lot, the effect creating tiny puddles that didn't exist. She used to chase them when she was a kid.

"It's whatcha get for growin' up with Merle," Daryl muttered, dragging her back to the present and away from her thoughts. He huffed impatiently from inside the car, and she could just imagine how he'd swiped at his hair. "Hot- wirin' cars and avoidin' the cops."

"Well, it's a lot more useful than piano lessons and T-ball, that's for sure."

From Daryl came a snort of agreement. "Guess it's a good thing Merle weren't no boy scout."

"Probably so." She squinted against the sun, shifting as the heat of the metal stung at her skin. "Doubt it would have done much good. Lots of things they never taught us in the girl scouts, anyway. Like how to kill walkers or hot-wire a car." She smirked. "But I do sell a mean box of cookies."

He graced her with another good-natured grunt before asking her to hand him the pliers.

"Why this car?" Carol passed him the tool, then surveyed their meager options across the lot. "Looks like it'd fall apart before it rolled out the gate."

"Got more life in it than you'd think." He hissed slightly as he tugged himself farther under the wheel, one boot scrambling for purchase up on the seat. "And the older ones are easier to wire. Way they make 'em now, gotta go through a lot more work." He jerked off a panel, then stilled his movements almost as if reconsidering the task.

Curious at his hesitation, Carol leaned to peer in through the open door. Moments later, she found herself taking a quick step backward as he wriggled out from underneath the wheel. His boots dropped to the ground, skidding slightly on a few pebbles of loose gravel as he edged himself forward and out of the car. Once standing, he gestured to the empty seat. "Go on."

Carol blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Go on," he repeated, swiping an arm over his brow. "Get in there. Oughta learn how to do this."

"I..."

"Said yourself it comes in handy. Oughta learn...case you ever need ta know."

She swallowed and studied his face a moment more. He was serious enough, and she couldn't fault the argument. Still...

"We doin' this, Girl Scout?" His eyes held something like amusement, but she got the sense that he really did want her to learn. That beneath the gruff, teasing words there rested something like concern.

Carol eyed the narrow bench before moving to perch delicately on the edge of the seat. Even sitting where she was, she could feel the trapped heat of the vehicle tumbling in waves like an oven against her back. She looked up at Daryl. "I don't even know where to start."

He shoved a few strands of wet hair off his face. "Kinda the whole point of learnin'." He gestured behind her and wiped a screwdriver with his rag. "Can't do it from there. Gotta get underneath on one like this." Daryl held out the tool.

With a sigh, she accepted the proffered screwdriver and eased herself backward to assume the position he'd occupied only moments before. "I don't know what I'm doing," she tried once more. The screwdriver felt too large in her hand, and, to be honest, she wasn't even sure what, if anything, she was supposed to unscrew. Feeling the humid air crawl across her midsection, Carol tugged awkwardly at her shirt, trying in vain to close the gap between it and the top of her jeans.

"Just tell me whatcha see."

Blowing out a breath, Carol twisted her neck, readjusting her sweaty grip on the metal tool. He'd already pried off part of the cover, and she could see where he'd intended to take off the rest. "Wires," she answered in a deadpan voice.

"Yeah, I got that part." She heard him chug from a bottle of water and fumble with the plastic cap. "What color? Different colors mean different things." His boots crunched on the gravel, nearing the spot where her legs now dangled. She flushed when she sensed his gaze skimming over her body, suddenly conscious of lying stretched on her back. _Relax, Carol. He's just trying to get a look at the car._

"There's..." She shifted in an attempt to keep her shoulder from falling off the seat. Her shirt only managed to ride up again. "There's red, brown...one's kinda yellow..."

"How many?"

She pried off the second piece of plastic, then shifted it awkwardly down to the floor. "Looks like two...of most." Carol cocked her head to the left to eye him from under the wheel. He was watching, just like she thought, backlit by the midafternoon sun. "Really, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'll probably electrocute myself."

"Ain't gonna let ya get hurt." He leaned forward, gripping the roof and edging his torso into the cab just above where she lay. Daryl's knee pressed against hers. An electric jolt traveled her leg. The flush swept briefly over her face, and for a moment Carol doubted it had much to do with the heat of the day.

She marveled, not for the first time, how his comfort with her varied so much from one brief moment onto the next. That night on the bus and that day in the tombs...but sometimes he'd flinch if she did so much as brush his hand.

"It's easy," he assured, nodding toward the wheel and producing a knife. Carol did her best to focus. "Just gotta figure out what you're lookin' at. Can teach a kid to do it. Have Asskicker out here in a couple a years."

"Right." Carol gritted her teeth at what was more than likely a sad reality. "So what do I do first?"

He flashed a grin and backed away, leaving her the knife and more room to maneuver.

He told her, guided her patiently through all of the steps. Carol's sweaty fingers refused to behave, but he just waited easily through all of her fumbles, repeating directions and leaning in from time to time to check on the progress. And at last, when the engine finally sparked to life under her own hands, he looked at her and actually smiled. "Told ya. Nothin' to it." He extended an arm over her waist.

She accepted his hand as he hauled her off the cramped bench seat. Carol righted herself next to the car, enjoying the way his palm fit over hers. He held on, she noticed, for an all-too-brief moment even after she stood. Dizzily, she leaned back against the rusting frame, realizing the back of her shirt was completely soaked through. "Nothing to it," she repeated in a mutter. "I'm not so sure about that." Carol rolled her eyes, though he saw the pride that was there. Inhaling a breath, she savored the tentative breeze on the back of her neck. "Took me an hour to get through this one, and you tell me every car's different."

Daryl shrugged as he stalked around to peer at the engine, now humming away beneath the raised hood. She missed the steadiness of his hand covering her own. "Did fine." He squinted down to study a hose. "And they ain't that different, long as you find an older model. Just need more practice is all. Some time to get 'em all figured out." He dabbed at something with his rag before nodding in slight satisfaction. "Can show ya on some of the other cars. Teach ya how ta work with the newer ones. Be runnin' from the cops in no time at all."

He swore he saw her smile at the words as she joined him at the front of the car. Satisfied with what he saw, Daryl moved to unhook the prop and release the hood, but she beat his hands to the greasy hook. Sweat had soaked through her shirt, and he blushed at the way it clung to her skin as she reached up to ease down the hood.

She caught him watching even though he jerked back his head. She didn't seem to mind, though. Just let the hood drop and rested her hip on the front of the car. A moment later, he leaned beside her, silently offering his bottle of water. She accepted it with a brush of her hand, gratefully untwisting the cap.

Daryl chewed a nail and watched a single cloud dissipate in the sky. The hum of the engine roared in his ears, and he found himself a little unsure where exactly to go from here.

"Thanks for teaching me," Carol offered, gaze still trained across the lot. He watched as she sipped from the plastic bottle. Then those blue eyes turned on him. "It was actually kind of fun." She offered him a twinkling smile. "Lot better than the girl scouts."

He didn't know why he couldn't quite hold the gaze. "No problem." She turned away, but an impish thought struck his mind. "You were right," he finally dared with the tiniest grin.

"About what?" Carol looked to him in mild surprise, her cheeks flushed and damp with the heat.

"Whatcha said earlier." His allowed his eyes to flicker on her. The memory of her stretched in the cab flashed in his mind while heat rolled in waves up the back of his neck. "Is pretty hot." He felt himself blush as he pressed the words out. Daryl scrambled up and away from the car. "Best head in and find some shade."

He was gone a second later, jogging inside the cool cellblock walls.

A strange sort of pleasure jumped like a spark inside her chest. Carol was left standing shocked and alone...and almost _certain_ his words had nothing to do with the warmth of the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Apparently, this one isn't over yet. I have a soft spot for awkward, fluffy, beginnings-of-Caryl fic. Trying to get back into the writing groove...**

* * *

**Spark**

She paused just outside Daryl's dimly lit cell.

The laundry basket, long cooled from its afternoon in the sun, rested somewhat wearily between her hip and the wall. She could hear him in there, no doubt at work on his bow, and yet Carol couldn't bring herself to step inside.

_"Is pretty hot."_

Her jaw had nearly dropped at the comment, uttered just before he launched himself off the rusting car and loped back inside the prison walls. He'd spared her little more than a flushing smirk, but she'd found herself _sure_, almost, that he hadn't meant the weather. And yet she'd been far too stunned, far too _pleased_ to merely brush it off. Even now, hours later, the memory sent a strange little shiver right up her spine.

_"Is pretty hot."_

Of course, she told herself, he was simply tossing her own teasing phrase right back at her. Unusual, yes, but still just another lob and catch in their lighthearted game.

Except for the fact that somehow it wasn't.

It was rare enough for him to return a teasing pass, but that wasn't what had her mind spinning itself into knots. There had been a look in his eye. Something like _interest _skimming the surface of that teasing smirk. The briefest spark that had her wondering if maybe - _maybe _\- he hadn't really been teasing her at all. For those words - those silly, joking, light little syllables - had landed far more heavily than any prior laughing comment exchanged between them.

Or maybe, she sighed, it was only hope. Wishful thinking nudged toward reality by the exhaustion that had descended down on them all along with the heat.

And it _had_ been pretty hot outside on that cracked concrete.

"You sellin' cookies out there?"

Carol jumped at Daryl's half-amused words, suddenly conscious of how long she'd stilled on the prison catwalk. Long enough, apparently, that he'd felt the need to question her presence lurking just outside of his cell door.

"Once a girl scout, always a girl scout." Carol flushed, smiling softly at his callback to their earlier conversation. She eased the basket through, bumping it lightly on the frame. "But," she summoned a dramatic sigh, "I'm all out of the mints."

"Shame." Daryl eyed her from the darkness of his cot, the bolts he'd been shaping stilled in his hand as he seemed to track her in the narrow space.

"Tell me about it." She eased the basket on to the ground, bending over to skim off the pile. "Those are the best ones."

He offered up a smirk, shifting himself easily from the cot. His boots hit the floor mere inches from hers.

"Laundry," Carol explained unnecessarily, wondering why she felt the nervous inclination to speak. Rifling through the sun-stiffened cloth, she deposited pants and a shirt into his waiting hands. "Even managed to get out some of the blood."

Daryl accepted the clothing with a nod. "Thanks."

With a tired smile, she bent once more before offering up some graying socks. "You're welcome." Carol leaned down to reclaim the tub, but her fingers stilled at the plastic lip. She allowed them to rest there for a moment, waiting out her indecision. "Actually..." She straightened, her mind flittering back to his teasing words. That funny little jolt in her stomach flared up again.

Daryl paused from the half-turn he'd done. Fingers clenching at the socks, he watched as she breathed through a sigh. "Matter?"

An inadvertent puff of air left her lips, chased off quickly with a nervous smile. "Laundry's not the only reason I came." He peered at her in expectation, and Carol fought against the urge to crack a meaningless joke. "I just wanted to thank you again for today."

He shrugged, looking down at the laundry in his hands. "Just thought you should learn, just in case."

She tried not to think about the _'in case_.' "But you didn't have to show me."

He shrugged again and Carol sighed, recalling her many fumbling attempts. How patient he'd been as he'd guided her through. How he'd leaned his body right up against hers.

The way he'd grinned when at last she'd gotten it right.

And the way he'd looked at her right before he jogged off...

She shook the memory from her mind. "Just...it meant a lot. I know you were busy." She chuckled slightly. "And I'm not exactly mechanically inclined."

Breaking her gaze, Daryl removed his clothes to a crate. It surprised her sometimes. He had a place for everything in that cell. "Wasn't that busy. And ya did fine." He took his time arranging the cloth, but time ticked by and eventually he watched his boots. "Better at it than ya think." His eyes flashed up, then darted back. "Just need some more practice is all."

Carol soaked in the compliment for one long second. "Did you mean what..." She cut herself off, barely in time. The words slipped out, freed temporarily from the confused jumble of her mind.

She must have spent too long in the heat.

"Did I mean what?" He turned suddenly, one hand hovering over his folded shirt while his heart thundered heavily inside his chest. The pounding nearly drowned out the echo of those damned words he'd tossed at her out by the car. The words she likely hadn't spared a second passing thought. The words he couldn't seem to stop hearing.

The words he couldn't quite bring himself to regret.

"What you said about..." _Did you mean what you said about me? _Carol swallowed reflexively, noting the way his eyes flared wide, almost like he knew what it was she was going to ask. Almost like he was scared for her to ask it. But that was impossible. All it had been was a silly joke. Meaningless words carried away from the prison yard on bare wisps of the wind. Carol cleared her throat, suddenly too aware of his intense stare. "About showing me more on another car," she finished quickly.

He studied her for a long second before blowing out a heavy breath. Turning, he began to gather bolts off the bed. Carol shrugged off the sense he'd been disappointed somehow. "Yeah. Show ya on some more if ya want."

"I'd like that." She surprised herself at the direct words, pulled from that same long-ago box where she'd recognized the flame she'd thought she'd seen sparking in his eyes. "If you don't mind," she qualified.

His eyes flickered up to meet hers, squinting slightly like he was trying to read something far away. Eventually, he nodded. "Don't mind." He brought a hand to his mouth in a gesture she'd long ago associated with a Daryl deep in thought. "Liked havin' ya out there." His gaze flickered nervously over to hers before the connection chased them away.

And she swore, in that brief moment, that she saw the spark again. Swore somehow it jumped right into her chest where it made the cell pleasantly warm.

"Good," and the corners of her mouth edged toward a grin. Again, her stomach did that strange flip, and she wondered if more had been brought back to life that day than just the car. "I liked being out there, too."

Her heart jumped up in her throat. She wondered if she'd pushed too far. But Daryl just nodded slightly, worrying his hand. She'd have thought him unaffected if not for the darting of his eyes.

A moment passed, and she felt the odd need to move. Inhaling deeply, she rubbed her hands on her thighs and reached for the bucket. "Well," she offered with a wry smile, "this isn't going to deliver itself."

"You gotta go now?" The question left his throat just a little too fast. He winced sharply at the sound.

Carol paused, hovering half-bent over the rubber laundry tub. "No, why?" He seemed to flinch at her words, and she straightened slightly in concern. "I was just going to take the last of the pile down to Hershel." He nodded absently but didn't speak. "You need something?"

He shrugged, one hand winding around to the back of his neck. "Just ain't seen ya much lately." His forehead drew tight as frustrated fingers scrabbled in his hair. "I mean...'sides this afternoon. Thought maybe..." His eyes flickered up to hers before retreating quickly away with a shake of his head.

"What?"

He was moving quickly now, shuffling and reshuffling arrows from his cot to his hand and back again. "Nothin'," he tossed over his shoulder. His fingers continued their useless movement.

"Daryl?" The light clack of the arrows stilled in his hand. "You thought what?"

But even as the question passed her lips, she realized it came much too late. Whatever he'd been about to say had been shoved off to the side, packaged into a silent bundle much like the arrows he clutched in his hand.

Sighing her resignation, Carol stepped back toward the door.

He felt his stomach drop.

But rather than leave, she leaned back against the cement wall. With a weary smile, she crossed her arms. "You're right," she offered softly.

Tearing his eyes from the bolts, he dared to look up but found Carol studying the floor.

Sensing his questioning look, the tired smiled deepened as she prodded the cement with the toe of her boot. "Haven't seen you much lately, either."

Daryl exhaled. He'd been out on runs or hunting or chasing an evil ghost of a man with Michonne for far too many weeks. "Gotta be done."

"I know." But she didn't lift her eyes until a beat had passed. "I know it does. And I know you work harder than anybody else to keep us all alive."

His face drew into a scowl as his gaze fell deliberately on the laundry basket. "Ain't so sure about that."

Her head tilted to the side, but she let the comment pass. "I know it's got to be done. But...We miss you when you aren't here."

He scoffed slightly, but the breath stilled in his lungs when she pushed out her next words. Offered the truth he hadn't known he was waiting to hear.

"_I_ miss you when you aren't here."

He looked at her in something like shock.

Carol drew in a shaky breath, suddenly uncomfortable against the cold wall. "Anyway, I had a good time today...and I wanted to thank you for that." She shifted from her spot and took a step toward the basket.

"Ya don't have to...Don't have to thank me."

Carol turned to find him once again worrying the skin of his thumb.

He shrugged uncomfortably under her gaze. "Told ya...like havin' ya out there."

Panic flooded into his chest. The cell narrowed and darkened until it was impossibly small. He braced himself, stiffened his muscles for the blow, but received only a gentle smile. Carol dropped her head to the side. "And I told you, Daryl...I like being out there with you."

Feeling his face grow warm at her words, he summoned his last bit of courage. "Was gonna ask ya earlier..." And somehow he lost the words again. Carol merely waited him out. "Was gonna ask if ya wanted to head back down." He gestured vaguely to the catwalk beyond. "Was gonna swap out a battery on that orange truck."

She looked at him in confusion.

"The one sittin' out in the gravel," he explained, hoping like hell it'd came out like he planned. Like he hadn't spent the rest of the afternoon working out a way to see her again - free from the eyes of the rest of the prison. "Got a battery might work for it on that last run. Thought maybe you'd wanna learn," he finished lamely.

"Oh."

"Enough moonlight out," he commented softly. "With that and a lantern can see pretty good...have it runnin' by tomorrow if we're lucky."

Carol blinked in disbelief, trying to process what he'd asked. Trying to tamp down the hope that threatened to flare. "You want to do this now?"

He shrugged. "Got some time before watch." He peeked out from his bangs with something she read as hope, though it faded quickly under her surprised stare. Daryl shook his head and dropped his chin. Of course she wouldn't want to head down to the yard now, late as it was. Woman had been running herself ragged since before the sun even rose. He scowled at his own inept idea, embarrassed he'd put such a thought in the open. Abruptly, he spun toward the opposite wall. "Ain't no thing. Can get it on my own if you got other -"

"No." She cut him off and he turned to her in surprise. "I want to." He watched as the grin crept across her lips. "I want to learn." Her cheek lifted in half a shy smile. "And I'd like to go with you."

He felt his heart jump in something like disbelief. His own cheek tugged down a fledgling smile.

Carol felt her own lips pull even wider at how pleased he seemed. She glanced at the tub, still placed on the floor. "Just let me drop off the last of this and I'll be down."

He nodded, reaching for a bag in the corner and trying to contain the flush that was spreading up his neck. "Meet ya there in a few."

As she slipped from the cell, she felt it again deep in her chest.

The fluttering warmth of a tiny spark.

And she was _sure_, for the first time, that he'd felt it, too.


	3. Chapter 3

"Who buys a bright orange truck?"

Daryl, up to his elbows in grease and some sort of fluid she couldn't identify, merely tugged again at a rusted bolt.

Carol adjusted the lantern in a failing attempt to give him more light. Her own greasy fingers kept slipping on the metal. "I mean, who walks into a dealership and says,'That one. The orange one. That right there is the truck of my dreams.'"

Daryl tugged again and shook his head in quiet frustration. It was a losing battle there out on the gravel. The battery had gone in easy enough, even under Carol's unsure hands. It was becoming rapidly apparent, however, that the old orange beast was in need of much more than just that.

Sighing, Carol leaned her hip against the truck and turned her attention to the full moon. She listened to Daryl tinker with the hoses just a bit more, though they'd likely reached the end of what they'd accomplish for the night.

She'd loved it, though. Every quiet moment between them. He'd been so patient, at ease and yet shy, as his hands guided hers under the hood. Already she missed their gentle warmth. Missed the feel of him leaned up against her. Missed the way his voice rumbled so close to her ear.

"Son of a..."

She couldn't help but smile as he cut himself off, likely for her. Shaking her head, she continued her musing. "Glenn," she announced with a slight note of triumph.

At last, Daryl removed his head from the engine with a confused sort of grunt. "What about him?"

She smiled softly at the way his hair fell toward his eyes. "Glenn buys an orange truck," she clarified. "That's who walks in and does it."

A huff of a laugh escaped from Daryl as she eased off with the light. "Glenn, huh?" He leaned forward to peer one last time under the hood. "I had a truck like this once," he muttered, testing the strength of a hose with one hand. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Same color paint."

Carol blinked in surprise. "Really?"

He nodded for a moment as he leaned back. A crooked grin - one she might have described as _shit-eating_ if she'd been so inclined - threatened his lips. "No."

Carol swatted him lightly with an oily palm.

He grinned even wider, liking the way her eyes seemed to sparkle. Liking that they did that when she looked at him. "Damn thing looks like a pumpkin. You think I'd drive one of these if I had a choice?"

Shaking her head, she offered up a fairly clean towel and snagged one for herself. "Well, there's no accounting for some people's taste."

"Ain't that the truth." He began wiping at his soiled fingers. "Guess beggars can't be choosers."

They quieted for a while as he finished scrubbing his arms, eventually fidgeting with a frayed edge of the cloth. Carol cut the lantern then, leaving them with only the moon.

At least there was now a breeze, reaching them in whispers through the dark. The heat of the day had subsided, and Carol inhaled the cooling night air while savoring the calm that rested between them. Her palm thoughtlessly smoothed the rusting paint. She hated for this evening to end. "You think there's any chance of getting it to run again?"

Daryl shrugged. "Maybe if we find the parts. Already got the battery. Just gonna be more work than I thought. Got all these cracks in the hoses here..." He ran a finger along a wire. "Can mend those up. Just gonna take time."

She nodded, the back of her hand still tingling from his earlier touch. "Best things in life always do."

His features tightened briefly, but he merely nodded his agreement and studied the sky.

Carol tipped her head back, exhaling a breath she hadn't meant to hold. "Thanks for showing me how to change out the battery. And for earlier today."

"Can show you the rest, too. Just need supplies first."

"I'd like that."

He nodded again, daring a glance in her direction. "You got, uh..." He gestured vaguely to his forehead, mirroring the location of a swipe of grease across her pale skin. Her hair was getting longer again, and she'd left behind a mark when she'd absently brushed a strand out of her way.

Her hand fluttered up, but she missed by a bit.

Daryl's cheek quirked in amusement. "Nah, it's more..." Before Carol could react, he'd taken the rag from her hands. Gently, so gently, he wiped away the smudge at her temple. Once, twice, then a third time he eased the cloth over her skin, pausing to peer at the spot after each pass.

So gentle. He seemed to move slower with each delicate brush. She couldn't help the way her eyes fluttered closed.

After the fifth pass, he lowered his hand. She could feel it trail along her cheek. "Got it," he breathed out in an awed whisper.

She opened her eyes.

His eyes were so blue, and so very near. "Thanks." Somehow her feet couldn't take a step back.

She felt grounded and jolted all at once. Her palm twitched, but surely it'd push too far if she reached up to nudge back his hair.

Carol blinked, but the feeling didn't disappear. "I'm glad we came down here."

He nodded. "Me, too." Shifting, he seemed to realize how close they were. Realize how close to the invisible ledge they'd both crept. His hand scrubbed at the back of his neck. Breaking her gaze, breaking the moment, he eyed the truck and cleared his throat. "Just wish we coulda got her runnin'."

"Daryl?" She wasn't ready for it to end.

Whatever _it_ happened to be.

He looked up nervously at the sound of his name.

"It wasn't the cars I liked about today." She chewed on the inside of her cheek, doubting her courage to spell it all out.

But that wasn't needed after all. She should have known. Words usually weren't. Not between them.

Daryl fussed with the rag still in his hands, then laid it over the side of the truck. Swallowing down his panic, he chanced a look at her face. "Me neither."

Heat rushed up his neck and stole his breath. She was damn _beautiful_ when she smiled like that.

A nervous bout of energy had her moving, gathering the rag from the truck's edge. "Anyway, I liked this. All of it." She paused, debating how much farther to push. "And you're a good teacher." Taking a step forward, she raised up on her toes and aimed for his cheek. One hand steadied itself at his firm chest.

He was certain she'd feel the way his heart shook.

A brief peck on his cheek and she pulled away, intending to head straight back inside. Intending to leave him to respond - alone - however he would. But his hand at her wrist stilled her retreat.

Carol's breath caught as her heels found the ground. Her eyes trailed to his fingers circling her skin. The tentative touch on her wrist held her in place. Grounded him and her and the shift in the air.

She looked to Daryl in silent question, and suddenly she was quite sure he'd meant what he said - not about showing her more or anything having to do with the heat of the day.

But he didn't seem to know where to go from there.

"Daryl?"

He didn't respond. At least not at first. Then his worried eyes darted from hers. "I don't..." The words exhaled in the slightest breath. Carol had to struggle to hear.

"You don't what?"

His fingers trembled against her pulse. She watched the muscles of his jaw clench. "I don't know where to begin."

The memory hit like cold summer wind. The words. Her words, from that afternoon as she looked, confused, on the tangled web of crisscrossed wires.

Uttered just before he'd shown her what to do.

And yet, it was all changing so very fast. Too fast to completely edge out the doubt.

"Where to begin with what?" She needed to hear him confirm with words, to ground her to the fact that this possibility was about to turn into something more.

He didn't answer her with words. Just circled his fingers more firmly around his wrist, easing her ever so slightly closer to him.

She found that response more than enough.

She nodded back the barest of nods. "It's easy."

He didn't pull away, but she felt the reflexive tightening of his fingers still wrapped at her wrist.

His chin fell to his chest, darkened eyes drifting closed. "Got no idea what I'm doin' here. Probably gonna...Probably ain't a good idea."

He released his grip on her wrist, leaning back just a bit.

Pulling away.

"Wait." The word slipped out, oblivious to the fact that he hadn't really gone anywhere at all.

Her fingers chased after his hand, bumping against his knuckles before he yielded and gave in. Allowed her fingers to tangle gently through his.

"Daryl?" The way she said his name - so _careful_ \- had him looking up.

She thought for a moment. "You remember what you said to me - earlier today? When I was looking at all those wires? Thinking I'd electrocute myself?"

His eyes met hers and found them shining in mirth, but before he could speak she drew serious and answered herself.

She leaned even closer into him. "I'm not gonna let you get hurt."

Daryl felt his fingers twitch in her hand. Felt the soothing brush of her skin impossibly soft over his. Wondered how it could be that it all came to this. How, after all these months, it all changed in a day.

"Hey," her free palm found the curve of his cheek. He realized then that he'd stared for a while. She shrugged, patiently forgiving his silence. "Just tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what you want."

He thought for sure she could see his heart jump in his chest. Felt like he'd lost all his air. What was he thinking? Fuck, how was he supposed to answer that? He didn't have a clue what he was supposed to say much less any idea about what he wanted.

But even as those thoughts rolled through his mind, he knew they were wrong. He looked at her eyes and pushed out the word. "This." His breath caught in his chest. "I want this."

He was stunned by the tears that caught the moonlight. "Okay."

Blinking, she offered him the barest nod, and he took his cue.

So carefully, he leaned down. Inch by inch, he closed the gap. All the while his heart thundered inside of his aching test. He paused with only a whisper of a breath between then. Paused, giving her the option of turning away.

She didn't. To his absolute shock and wonder, she leaned slightly forward. Brushed her lips softly right against his.

He startled at the touch, inadvertently breaking their tenuous connection. She could feel more than hear his startled gasp.

But he surprised her. Gathered himself up in the very next instant and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

Soft. Warm. And all too quick he was pulling away. Daryl stared at their boots while she blinked in surprise. He sucked in a breath, suddenly too aware of her hand clamped embarrassingly tight inside his own. Carol only smiled when he loosened his grip, but didn't let go.

"Told you," she whispered, easing back on her heels. Her thumb soothed over his palm. "Nothing to it."

If he hadn't been in such shock he'd have laughed. It had taken months, hell, longer than that just to get up the balls. "Not so sure about that."

Her words again, from earlier that day.

At that his hand slipped away. Suddenly empty, hers fidgeted at the back of her neck before she stilled it at her side.

"You did just fine." Her head dipped to catch his eye. When he dared to look, he saw her grin. "Though I'm willing to practice more if you'd like." She raised an eyebrow in teasing offer.

Daryl flushed red, though she thought she saw the start of a smile. It didn't last long, though. His face drew up in twisted worry. "You okay with this?" he asked softly. It had all snuck up on him so fast. He hadn't planned to kiss her. Hadn't planned whatever this feeling was inside of his chest.

But there she was, looking up at him like he hung the damn moon. "I'm more than okay with this."

He scratched at the back of his itchy neck. "'Cause it ain't just..." _Ain't just a kiss or a one time thing. Ain't something unimportant. Ain't just because of that sweaty shirt or the way you looked out there in the sun or down here under the moon. _But none of those things were quite right. He drew in a breath. "It ain't..._nothin'." _His boots scuffed the ground and he scowled at the gravel, frustrated by his inadequate words.

"I know." She paused. "It's not nothing. I think...it's _something_."

His head whipped up. The way she said it...She understood.

"It's..." Her eyes drifted over under the hood. "It's just gonna take some time."

He glanced over at the tangle of hoses. "Best things in life do," he echoed her earlier words.

"Yeah." Her lips pressed together against the smile. Carol reached once more for the discarded rags, gathering them easily in her arms. "Gotta be almost midnight. You're on watch?"

He eyed the moon with a regretful nod. "Yeah. Best be heading up."

"Okay," she acknowledged with a soft smile. "Daryl?"

He looked up and she felt herself blush.

"I know it's not nothing." She pressed her lips to his cheek one more time, pleased when he didn't pull away. She whispered the rest into his ear. "All it takes is one little spark."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! This one most likely ends right here, but I hope it's gotten me back in the habit - or at least made someone smile.**

**(In memory of The Pumpkin Truck)**


End file.
